


Blood of the Covenant

by imthetitanic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, F/M, Heavy Angst, Homophobia, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rewrite, Suicide, Torture, Triggers, What Have I Done, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:13:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28995036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imthetitanic/pseuds/imthetitanic
Summary: Dean and Sam Winchester are ordinary high schoolers with the very open secret that John Winchester is an abusive parent. Castiel Novak is Dean's boyfriend, the youngest child of Wentzville's very own crime family. When, just before the first day of his senior year, Dean is beaten badly by John, Cas has to choose between abiding by the rules of his family or enacting justice for his boyfriend and deal with the ramifications of that choice.This fic is a rewrite of my Young Blood Chronicles series, including all three fics in one, posted as I rewrite the chapters.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Ellen Harvelle/Bobby Singer, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester
Kudos: 17





	Blood of the Covenant

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Light 'Em Up](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3175244) by [imthetitanic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imthetitanic/pseuds/imthetitanic). 



~~ ** _sam winchester_** ~~  
Sam’s watch read 21:04 and Dean was still not home, which posed a multitude of problems. The smallest? He had resolved not to go to sleep until Dean got in, and his first day of high school was the next morning. The biggest? Sam’s phone was broken, shattered against a wall last time his father came home drunk, so he couldn’t text Dean to warn him to come in through a window to avoid the same fate.

Downstairs, a hinge creaked, loud against Sam’s strained ears. Louder still was the immediate shouting, words slurred together until they were unrecognizable, and even louder, ringing through the house, the sound of closed fist against flesh, again, and again. At the sound, Sam threw the blanket back and raced to the stairs, footfalls mingling with the chaos. He went more carefully down the stairs until he could see Dean.

His older brother was prone, held down, and bleeding already, lacerations on his cheekbones, nose trickling. Their eyes met, and Dean shook his head, but the word “Stop!” bubbled out of Sam’s chest and erupted from his mouth, audible over the drunken yelling.

John rose at that, allowing Dean to scramble to his feet. John seemed to be ignoring him, bloodshot eyes fixed on Sam. He took a step forward, mumbling something Sam couldn’t hear, and Dean immediately threw himself between them, close enough for Sam to get a grip on his arm. Dean was trembling, but if Sam wasn’t touching him he wouldn’t have known.

“This isn’t your business, Sam.” The chill in John’s voice sent one down Sam’s spine. It was a drastic shift from the incoherent screaming, one that was utterly unfamiliar. His father had never spoken to him so coldly. John raised his hand and took another step toward Dean. 

When Sam was there, John always hesitated. Sam took the opportunity, grabbed Dean, and yanked him up the stairs. John’s heavy footsteps followed behind them, but were too slow to stop Sam from pulling Dean into his room, slamming the door, and wedging a chair under the knob. When he turned around, Dean was swaying, and Sam barely managed to direct his fall to the bed, where he lay unconscious.

Sam checked his pockets immediately for a phone, with no luck, and Dean wasn’t waking up. It wasn’t until two o’clock in the morning by the old alarm clock on the nightstand that John’s loud snoring reached Sam’s ears, and Dean was still unconscious.

Sam carefully removed the block on the door and opened it, snuck downstairs to where the cordless phone sat blessedly on its charger next to the snoring John, swiped the phone, and snuck back upstairs, replacing the block behind him. As soon as he was back in safety, he dialed the all-too-familiar number.

It rang four times before a tired, low voice answered, “Why, in the name of all that is holy, are you awake?”  
Sam ran his hand through his hair. “Dad.” He grimaced. “Sorry to wake you, Cas.”

“What did he do this time?” Cas sounded more alert now, and his voice, intimidating at the best of times, took on a dangerous timbre Sam hadn’t really heard before.

“Dean came in late, and there isn’t a way to put it other than Dad beat the shit out of him.” Sam sighed, even his breath shaky. “He’s unconscious.”

Cas’s voice could only be described as a growl when he responded, “I’ll kill him.” Sam opened his mouth to respond, but Cas continued, “I will. This is the last time I get this call.”

Sam didn’t disagree, but he had to. “You know how much Dean hates it when we bring it up.”

There was a long pause. Sam was about to assume the line had gone dead when Cas finally replied, “Then why bring it up to me?”

“It’s visible. You deserved the warning.” 

“I do appreciate it. I won’t bring it up to Dean. For now.” There was a click at the other end of the line. Cas had hung up, leaving Sam to stare at the phone in his hand for a moment before bringing Dean back to consciousness, checking for a concussion, and going to sleep. Tomorrow would be a blast.

~~ ** _castiel_** ~~  
Cas saw the honey-colored hair before anything else and made a beeline for Dean at his locker, dodging easily through the crowded hallway. He leaned against the locker next to his boyfriend and said, “Hello, Dean.” 

Dean jumped. “Jesus, Cas, you are quiet as a cat.” He slammed his locker shut and turned to face Cas.

“A necessary skill, I assure you.” Cas forced a smile as he examined Dean’s face. “You never fail to jump.” Sam had understated the situation. Dean’s face was a swollen, multicolored mess. Cas meant what he had said last night. If John was going to keep attacking _his_ Dean, there would be a steep price to pay. 

Dean let out a low chuckle, which Cas took to mean Dean had understood his statement was a joke. “So. First day back.” Dean was not meeting Cas’s gaze. “God, I hate this place. But you shoulda seen Sammy this morning, bouncing around like it was Christmas morning.”

So that was the game. Don’t acknowledge what was clearly wrong. Cas could play this game. He was used to playing this game. No anger and concern was in his voice when he said, “He will go far.” He leaned in and pressed his lips gently to Dean’s swollen, cut ones. They tasted of blood still. “Come on. We’re seniors now. One more year in here will definitely not kill you.” He pulled back and stared directly into Dean’s gorgeous green eyes. He was not going to pursue the topic of the bruising, but he saw the fear enter his boyfriend’s eyes.

“Cas.” Dean’s voice shook slightly. Was he going to bring up the bruising himself? 

Only one way to find out. “Yes, Dean?”

“I can tell you’re worried. This isn’t anything, okay?” The lie passed so easily through Dean’s lips that Cas wondered if he actually believed it himself. “I got in a fight.”

Cas could not mask the ice cold anger that coursed through his veins at that when he said, “This isn’t going to happen again. I _will_ do something about this.” He wasn’t a Novak for nothing, though anything he did to John Winchester wouldn’t be approved by the family. 

Dean nodded, and Cas could have missed what he said if he wasn’t listening so intently: “That’s what I’m afraid of.”


End file.
